


Be Careful What You Ask For

by sexyblueeyeddevils



Series: Spellbound [4]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 14:50:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12961746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexyblueeyeddevils/pseuds/sexyblueeyeddevils
Summary: Bertholdt decided to finally put Marco's mind at ease about the infamous 'laundry room' incident..





	Be Careful What You Ask For

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all, it's been a minute. I had this nugget floating around in my head, not sure if I like it, but here it is anyway. If you don't know what the laundry room incident refers to, you can check out my other Spellbound stories. However it is not a necessity, Jean sums it up in a way only he can. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think.

Jean sat on the counter top, fingernails tapping against the glass of sangria their resident chef made just for him. He looked on as dextrose hands kneaded and folded dough for the French loaf he was baking. 

“Hey, remember that time when Marco nailed you in the laundry room?”

Bertholdt stopped what he was doing momentarily before resuming his work. “Yes, it’s the reason I don’t do laundry when Marco is home.”

Jean eyeballed him wondering if he had hit a nerve, until green eyes slid sideways to and full lips pulled into a small teasing smile. “It was an experience. I don’t regret it.”

“I do.” Marco came into the kitchen and pecked Jean on the lips. Hugging Bertholdt from behind, burying his face between his shoulder blades. 

“You shouldn’t.” The chef sprinkled a little more flour on the dough. “Why are you bringing it up now? That was years ago.”

“Because someone still feels bad about it.” Jean looked to his clingy husband, leeched to their taller lover’s back.

“Marco, it’s not a big deal, love.” He wiped the flour from his hands as best he could and turned in Marco’s arms. “Would it make you feel better if I fucked you against the washer machine?”

“Maybe?” Large brown doe eyes gazed up at him. Jean sat quietly, sipping his wine.

Bertholdt cradled Marco’s face in his hands, tenderly kissing his lips. “Do you want me to rough you up a bit? Take my retribution out on you? Would that easy your mind?” He nipped at Marco’s plump lip.

“Yes.”

Bertholdt pulled back a little to look at the freckled angel, “Really?”

Jean snickered drawing Bertholdt’s attention to him. He shrugged his slim shoulders. He was staying out of it. Green eyes fell back to Marco and then turned back to his bread. “Alright, but it will happen when you least expect it.”

Jean reached up into the cupboard he was next to, retrieving another wine glass, he handed it to Bertholdt. Refilling Jean’s glass and giving the other one to Marco. “Now, get out of my kitchen.” He pinched Jean on his hip causing him to yelp. “You too.” He leaned in to kiss Jean on the nose. “You’re worse than Naba. Stay off the counters.” 

Jean hopped down. “You gonna fuck me against the counter if I don’t?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“You’d like that too much. Marco, take your delinquent husband with you.”

Marco escorted Jean out of the kitchen. “Why did you say something to him?”

Jean rolled his eyes. “Because you’re still feeling guilty about it years later. Even after all the copious amounts of sex we have all had together, you still fall back to that one moment.” He pulled Marco onto the couch and then leaned up against him, stretching out the length of it. “You do know if Bert felt threatened by you at all, he could have easily kicked your ass, but he didn’t. You caught him by surprise and had amazing rough sex that left him with a limp for a few days. He still lets you hit it, so stop worrying about it.” He pinched Marco’s check then kissed it. “I love you, but you’re making me nuts with this.”

Marco ran his fingers through Jean’s unruly hair. “I know, I’m sorry.”

There was a commotion at the front door as Reiner and Naba came back from their run. Reiner took off Naba’s leash, hanging it by the door. Patting her side, “Go find Jean.”

He said it just loud enough that Jean heard it but had no time to react as Naba tore around the corner and leapt up on the couch, and effectively, disabling Jean. Marco had foresight to grab the wine glasses before she traipsed all over him. One paw stepping right on his crotch, Jean groaned and folded in on himself, wallowing in pain. Naba licked Marco’s face before jumping off the couch and going about her business.

Marco chuckled at Jean’s pinched expression. “Well, there went any chance I had of having my way with you tonight.”

“You can thank that blond oaf of ours.” He wheezed. For months now, Jean would randomly find himself being glomped on by one hundred and fifty pounds of dog. Naba had no problem knocking him over or bumping him into walls if he wasn’t ready for it. And now he knew why. “Fuck you, Braun.”

“Aww, don’t be mad. Naba’s just showing a little love.” Reiner gave the Rhodesian Ridgeback a treat and rubbed under her floppy ears. “Isn’t that right, princess.”

“I liked it better when she hated me.” Jean’s head rested on Marco’s thigh, his knees pulled up, hands tucked between his thighs. Marco played with his ear in a soothing manner.

Bertholdt’s voice floated from the kitchen. “Nanaba, go say you’re sorry to Jean.” Everyone knew who her real owner was.

“No, please don’t. I’m fi—oookaaay.” Naba laid her head on Marco’s knee in front of Jean’s face. She gave him sad puppy eyes. “You don’t have to pretend—” She waited until his mouth was open before licking his face. “Gah!” Marco laughed openly. “Ok, ok, apology accepted.” Naba bounded off to the edge of the kitchen, tail wagging as Bertholdt gave her another treat.

“Laugh it up, freckles!” Jean hobbled into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

It was Reiner’s turn to harass Bertholdt while he worked. “Hey, babe.” He kissed the side of his neck as he came up from behind. Bert leaned his head to the side inviting his husband to kiss him again. “Whatcha making?”

“Spiced crab cakes with a mango puree, lobster bisque, gnocchi with a light primavera sauce, sautéed vegetables, along with the rosemary French loaf in the oven.” 

“Ah, experimenting again?”

“Yes, I already have something planned for most of these. I just wanted to try something different.” Bertholdt minced ingredients as he spoke, placing them into small bowls.

“Well you know we don’t mind being your guinea pigs.” Reiner backed up a bit to sneak a glance down at Bertholdt’s backside. The apron he tied around his waist always amplified the curve of it.

“Stop.”

“Stop what?” Reiner feigned innocence as he brushed his thumbs over the swell of Bertholdt’s ass, to the dimples hidden under his clothes on his lower back.

The taller man sighed and laid down his knife. “Why does everyone feel the need to sexually harass me when I’m cooking lately?”

Reiner ran his thick fingers up Bertholdt’s back and rubbed at the muscles in his shoulders. The tension in his shoulders dropped and he closed his eyes. “For one, you are always at the restaurant and we miss you. Two, you are almost always cooking when you are home. And three, who doesn’t love a man who can cook and is sexy as hell doing it?”

Bertholdt leaned back into Reiner’s strong hold as he wrapped his arms around him. “I’m tired.”

“I know.”

“But my mind is too wound up with all these ideas. I feel like I need to take advantage of seasonal items, so customers won’t get bored.”

“It’s ok.”

“I miss you guys.”

“We miss you too.”

“We need a vacation.”

“Yes, we do.”

“Are you placating me?”

Reiner kissed the side of his neck again. “No. I’m agreeing with you. Plus, I love the sound of your voice.” The blond thought for a moment as he held his lover. “I talked to Connie last week. Sasha graduated from culinary school last year. I bet if you asked her, she would totally come work for you.”

Bertholdt hummed. “I’d be worried she’d eat up all the profit.” Reiner chuckled into the side of his neck. “Don’t they live an hour away?” 

“Connie commutes thirty minutes our way anyway. Said they are thinking about moving.”

“I’ll reach out to her. Maybe take a trip to the restaurant she’s working at.” They fell into a comfortable silence as Bertholdt picked up his knife again and began chopping vegetables. “The laundry room incident was brought up again.”

“Again?”

“Yeah.” Bertholdt chuckled lightly. “Marco and his misplaced guilt.” Reiner nodded in agreement. “He wants me to rough him up.” He shook his head. “Silly.”

“So, he wants you to give him the same treatment he gave you that one time, huh?” Reiner let himself melt into Bertholdt’s warmth even though he just got back from his run. “Jealous.” The taller man laughed. “What did Jean want?”

“A glass of wine and to put his ass on my counter.”

“And you let him?” Reiner said with a bit of disbelief. Everyone knows the kitchen was off limits. Funny how so much gets started there.

Bertholdt smirked and glanced at Reiner. “I missed him too.” He turned his head and pecked his love on the lips. “And what is it that you want?”

“Whatever you’ll give me. You know it doesn’t take much.” Bertholdt rolled his eyes. “Ok, actually, right now I want to bite the hell out of your ass.”

“…Really…” Bertholdt deadpanned and Reiner made a chomping motion making him laugh at his ridiculousness. “Get out of my kitchen.”

~>~>~>~

Days passed, and it seemed like Marco’s request was forgotten. Everything returned to normal. At least that is how it seemed on the surface. 

There was an unspoken current of anticipation that would pique whenever Marco was around Bertholdt. He would catch olive eyes staring at him on occasion, but nothing more. It set Marco on edge when he was home. However, there had always been someone else around. He came to the realization that it probably wouldn’t happen, if anything happened at all.

Marco returned home from work early one day. His mind a million different places at once. The proposal he was working on got scrapped. His boss deciding to go in another direction, which of course had his entire staff scrambling. They weren’t making any progress, so he sent everyone home to collect their thoughts, with the promise to meet up bright and early the next morning, breakfast on him.

He spent the next twenty minutes on the phone with his mother, who called to complain that he hadn’t been home in a while and wanted to know when he and Jean were coming for a visit. It had been about two years since he’d seen his family. Marco promised he’d coordinate something with Jean. His mother had been fussing about the same thing lately.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took his shoes and socks off as he talked to her. Loosening his tie, he set it on the duvet. Changing into some navy-blue sweats and a black tank top, he wandered around the house seeing if anyone was home.

“Si, Lo faro. Lo prometto. Ti amo anche mamma. Ci sentiamo presto.” Ending his call, he poked his head in Jean’s office. The lights were off. Reiner’s car was out front, but the house appeared empty. Even the dog was gone. 

Heading into the kitchen, Marco opened the cabinet and retrieved a small cup. Grabbing some juice from the fridge, he filled the glass and returned the carton.

Before he could shut the door properly, he found himself being shoved up against it. A warm hand clasped over his mouth when he tried to protest.

“Shhh…”

Marco tensed with excitement. His chestnut eyes went wide. Finally. Bertholdt’s body pressed solid against him, his breath warm in his ear. “Are you sure this is what you want? I had to fire someone today and I’m not in a good mood.” He kissed the shell of Marco’s ear before biting down on it.

Marco reached back to grip his hip. Bertholdt’s fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist and put his hand back on the refrigerator door. “No touching, unless I tell you to.” Marco nodded slightly. This close, he could smell the sultry spice of caramel skin. He didn’t smell like he had been working in his restaurant all day, but of his signature scent, which right now, made him seem a little dangerous. He had taken preparations for Marco and waited patiently for him to arrive home. Marco wondered how long he had been waiting since he didn’t tell anyone he’d left the office early. That thrilled him even more.

Bertholdt’s touch was firm, but not bruising, as he traced over Marco’s sides and down his back. Hooking his fingers under the waist band of his sweats, he commanded Marco to take them off. He did so quickly, barely having time to step out of his pants before being spun around. His back hitting the cool chrome metal. Marco gazed up into burning green pools. 

“Bert—”

“Shhh…”

Marco swallowed hard. Bertholdt pushed his knee between his thighs. He skimmed his fingers over Marco’s throat, causing him to part his lips on a gasp. “Do you remember what you said to me that day?” Chestnut eyes dilated. The strong hand kept light pressure on his throat, tan fingertips skimmed over his pulse point. Green eyes dipped to Marco’s parted lips. “You said, ‘No one is home,” Long fingers reached up and tangled in short dark hair, “’There’s no one here to save you,’” yanking Marco’s head back, Bertholdt’s voice dropped. “I’m going to ruin you. Make you beg for it, and you will beg. However, you don’t get to come until I tell you to.”

The hand on his throat trailed down his body, coming to rest over his growing erection. Squeezing firmly, but not enough to be painful, Bertholdt glowered down at him. “Is this still what you want, Marco?”

Marco’s throat went dry, “God, yes.” He rasped.

“On your knees.”

Marco immediately obeyed. His face coming level with Bertholdt’s clothed crotch. He wore loose fitted faded blue jeans and nothing more. He longed to reach out and run his hands over warm caramel skin. He didn’t know how Bert managed to stay in shape with how busy he was, but the flat plane of his lean torso called to him. His fingers hesitated, and he looked up into patient olive eyes. “You want this too much. It won’t have the same effect.” Bertholdt took a step back. Marco reached for him only to have his hand batted away. “I didn’t say you could touch me.”

“Can I tou—”

“No.”

Marco didn’t know why, but Bertholdt’s cold demeanor turned him on even more. Maybe, it was because it was so out of character for him.

“Take off your shirt.” Bert held his hand out for it.

Quickly, he stripped himself of his tank top and placed it in the outstretched hand. Marco waited with baited breath as he folded it lengthwise until it resembled a blindfold. Oh. Bertl tilted his head back with a finger under his chin, “Close your eyes.” Doing so, Marco could feel the cloth being secured behind his head.

“Can you see?” Marco shook his head. “Is it too tight?”

“No.”

Skimming his thumb over Marco’s lower lip, “Open your mouth and relax your throat. I’m going to fuck your pretty mouth.” That both thrilled and terrified him. Bertholdt was by no means lacking in that department. Jean was the dick sucking champion in their household and the only one who could take most of that monster in his mouth. 

Bertholdt started slowly, letting Marco lave the tip of his cock with his tongue. Gradually, he began thrusting into the wet heat. Shallow thrusts at first, Marco only gagged once. “Good boy, let’s see if you can handle a little more” He began moving faster and deeper into the back of Marco’s throat. The sound of his cock sliding in and out of the freckled beauties mouth were almost enough to push him over. Several times Marco reached forward to steady himself, only to put his hands behind his back instead.

“Such a good boy. You can touch, but don’t get to handsy.” The grip on his hair tightened and Marco blindly braced his hands on Bertholdt’s strong thighs. Slowing his thrusts, Marco’s cock twitched at Bert’s low murmur. “Deep breath, beautiful.” He barely had the time to inhale before that thick long cock blocked his airways. He swallowed around Bertholdt’s length, fighting back the urge to pull away. The hand tangled in his hair prevented it anyway.

“Just a little longer. Don’t act like you don’t love choking on Jean’s cock, I know you do.” At the mention of his mate’s name he pushed forward, taking more of that heavy cock in his throat. There was a sharp hiss from above. “Thought so.”

Marco’s fingers curled into the fabric of Bertl’s jeans. Tears stung the corners of his eyes. If it wasn’t for the blindfold, they may have slipped down his checks. Finally, Bertholdt wrenched his head back and Marco gasped for air. “So good, Marco.” He ran his thumb over his glistening swollen bottom lip, breaking the string of saliva that connected them. 

“I can’t decide whether I want to paint your pretty freckled face or come down your throat.” Bert yanked the make shift blindfold from his face, ruffling his hair in the process. Marco’s watery eyes blinked up at him. “What do you think, sweetness?” 

Who was this man and what did he do with Bertholdt?

Marco coughed and swallowed, working his jaw. He watched as Bertholdt stroked himself languidly. That alone was enough to make him reach down and palm himself. 

“Marco.” His name was said as a warning.

“C-come on my face.” His voice was raspy and needy.

“Open your mouth and close your eyes.” Marco was so close it wouldn’t take much for him to come sitting on his knees, in his underwear, in Bertholdt’s kitchen. He could hear soft pants and the wet sound of Bert’s stroke. “Almost reminiscent, isn’t it? How you sucked my cock for the first time by the stove.” A moan and a hitched breath left his throat, “Or when you made Reiner suck you off in this very spot.” Marco’s eyes flew open. “Didn’t think I’d hear about that, did you? You should know by now, Reiner can’t keep secrets.” Bertholdt’s stomach contracted, his gaze fierce and lusty all in one. “What’s my rule about the kitchen, Marco?” he twisted his hand around the head of his cock as he stroked back down.

Marco bit his lip, hands clenched on his own thighs now. “No sex in the kitchen.” 

“That’s right, no sex in the kitchen. But you like to break rules, don’t you?”  
Bertholdt moved his hand faster. “Close your eyes.” He whispered. A small grunt left his mouth as thick milky ropes painted Marco’s face.

Overwhelmed by the sexual tension, the throbbing of his own neglected cock, the warm splash of come on his face tipped him over the edge, catching him by surprise. Crying out once, he bit his lip hard and shuddered through his pleasure.

Bertholdt thought it was a good thing Marco kept his eyes squeezed shut or the shocked, mesmerized expression he wore as he came untouched, would have shattered the illusion he was putting on. He silently mouthed the only word that popped in his head, ‘fuck’, because damn, Marco was beautiful when he came.

Slipping back into his façade, he tipped Marco’s chin back. “Marco, what did you do?”

Pouty lips turned down slightly. The flush on his freckled cheeks threatened to creep down his neck. Opening his eyes, he glanced up into molten green fire before lowering his lashes. “I came before you told me to.”

Tucking himself back in, Bert moved to one of the drawers that held his finest dining linen. Taking out a cloth napkin, he unfolded the fabric with a snap, causing Marco to jump. Gripping his chin, he gently wiped the dripping fluid from his face. “You did exactly what I told you not to do.” Bronze fingers tipped his chin up. “What should we do about that?”

Oh my God, he was going to die. Marco turned his big brown eyes up at Bertholdt as he finished wiping his essence from his face. “You should punish me.” 

‘Gods, how does Jean deal with this on the daily?’ Bert stood to his full height. “Stand up.” Marco did so quickly. His knees ached from kneeling on the kitchen tile floor. “Something told me you were not going to listen.” Bertholdt unfolded a cloth on the island. Marco instantly recognized what was unwrapped. “So, I took the liberty of getting a few things. You are familiar with these, yes?”

Marco swallowed, “Yes.” Bertholdt had raided their closet and gotten into their playtime draws.

“Pick two.” Bertholdt turned away to make them something to drink and a snack. “I image you did not eat.” He set a tray next to the items Marco had selected. “Let’s take these off.” He tugged Marco’s soiled boxer briefs down his legs discarding them to the side. “Eat.”

Marco picked up a piece of fruit and chewed thoughtfully. “This isn’t how I thought this would go.”

“Disappointed?” Bertholdt stood an inch behind him. Marco could feel the heat radiating off him. He was always like a furnace. Reaching around the shorter man, he popped a piece of pineapple into his mouth.

“No. Maybe.” Marco chose the starfruit this time.

“I’m not done with you yet, Marco.” He leaned over him again. “What fruit would go well with you?” His fingers hovered before selecting a slice of mango. “Perfect.” Marco looked up at him curious as to what he was going to do next. Bertl slowly chewed, savoring the flavor. Lifting his chin towards the platter, “Eat.”

Marco did so, selecting a grape he almost crushed as warm liquid dribble from the top of his shoulder, down the curve of his spine and in between the cleft of his cheeks. He froze. Bertholdt’s tongue lapped up the juices between his shoulder blades. “Continue.” He murmured as he trekked lower. “Mmm, Mango suites your skin so well, Marco.”

“B-bert—” Marco seized the edge of the island. Gasping when long fingers gripped his backside as Bertholdt’s tongue collected the rest of the sweet nectar. 

“Do you want me to stop?” The muffled question floated up to his ears as he was licked clean.

“No.” Marco shuddered as he felt the warm breath against his skin. There was a hard slap to his left cheek and he yelped.

“Then keep eating. Don’t make me tell you again.” Marco made the sweetest sounds as Bertholdt continued to lap at him. He tried his damnedest not to choke on the various fruits, but it was hard not to with what was happening behind him. The one thing about Marco, it was very easy to get him worked up when he wanted something bad enough. He had been waiting for weeks for the promise Bertholdt made. He wanted to be fucked incoherent. He wanted Bertholdt’s hands around his neck, in his hair, slapping him across the face. That last one was a stretch, but not off the table.

Bertholdt knew exactly what Marco wanted which is why he wasn’t giving it to him. Not yet.

He was a thoroughly distracted mess, and extremely close to coming again. Bertholdt could tell by his whimper and the way he began to push back into him. With a final swipe of his tongue and a bite to his right cheek, he stood. Marco shakily brought a piece of fruit to his mouth before long nimble fingers plucked it out of his hand. 

Chestnut eyes followed the mango that was lost behind Bertholdt’s lips. His eyes flickered up to dark green pools. Bertholdt swiped his thumb under Marco’s lip wiping away a stray sliver of fruit. Bringing their mouths together, Marco instantly parted his lips, letting Bertholdt pour the warm juice from the mango into his mouth before kissing him properly. When they parted, Marco was panting.

A tiny smirk pulled at Bert. “So debauched, and we haven’t even started yet.” Marco whined and bit his lip. “You want to come again, don’t you?” There was a slight nod. “That’s not going to happen just yet.” A gasping sob left Marco’s throat before he could catch it. It pulled at Bertholdt’s façade. Schooling his expression quickly, “Do it then.” The shudder and the cry that wracked Marco was almost enough to have him drop this pretense, carry him to the bed and shower him with affection while slowly grinding him into the mattress. 

Marco held onto the counter as he came untouched for the second time. As he recovered, Bertholdt placed a glass of citrus and peach sangria, the same he made for Jean, in his hand. “Drink.”

Bertholdt pulled one of the bar stools away from the island and over to the counter. He spoke casually, yet with purpose as he gathered things from the fridge and pantry. “Have you chosen two yet?”

Marco bit his lip as he shifted his gaze from Bertholdt to the objects before him. There was a mix of dildos and vibrators, plugs and a few cock rings laid out on Bertholdt’s expensive linen. He had the decency to be slightly embarrassed as his and Jean’s play things littered the island in Bertholdt’s kitchen, but the thrill of not knowing what was coming pushed that feeling aside. “Yes, but something tells me you’ve already chosen what I should have.”

A wicked grin graced Bertholdt’s lips. “Then why don’t you show me which one’s they are.”

He separated the two items on the linen. A rather bulbus medium length vibrating plug and a studded cock ring. Marco looked up as Bert swooped in to take his lips, rewarding him for his correct choices.

“Now, you are going to help me with dinner.” Marco gazed wide eyed at him. Bert placed the apron over Marco’s head. Dropping his voice low, “We are having Italian tonight.” There was a whine from the back of his throat. “I’ve already made the dough, you will roll it and run it through the press.” Bert nodded at the counter where everything was prepared for Marco to begin. “What’s wrong? I thought you enjoyed helping me cook?”

He was thoroughly confused. Bertholdt didn’t leave him hanging for long though. He pressed flush against Marco’s back. “You should get started.” There was a snap of a glove as Bert ran two long digits down between the cleft of his cheeks and rubbed at his entrance. Marco did as he was told, cutting off a section of dough before rolling it out. He could feel the cool gel Bertholdt drizzled over his fingers, slick against his skin before he carefully pushed one in. Marco moaned, his flour covered hands clenching the dough he was supposed to be rolling. Warm breath cascaded down his neck as the deep timber whispered in his ear. “Marco, if you stop, so will I. Please continue. I have a schedule to keep.”

This gave new meaning to ‘food play’. Bertholdt was quiet as he stretched him, pushing another finger in with the first. Marco gasped as his hands shakily separated the dough rolling it into another flat strip. Bertholdt watched him work over his shoulder, mouthing at the skin on his neck. “Very good, Marco. Now, I want you to take a deep breath and let it out slowly.”

Bertholdt’s fingers were replaced by with the cool silicone plug as he slowly pushed it into place. Reaching around him, Bert gave a few languid strokes to Marco’s aching cock as the last of the plug was fitted snug inside him, the base seated against his stretched hole. Seconds later the cock ring slid down his shaft. 

Marco shuddered and sucked in another deep breath. How was this any different than how he played with Jean? It wasn’t, except he wasn’t used to the subservient role. Jean had seen this side of Bertholdt only because he liked to push Bert’s limits. The taller man had always been an attentive lover. This was new and exciting and frustrating as hell. Why were they cooking instead of fucking? He was in no place to question it since this was Bert’s domain and this is what he had asked for, technically. He shouted the others name as the vibrator was turned on bringing him out of his musing. 

Bertholdt leaned against the counter next to him. The glove gone from his hand and the fresh scent of citrus hand soap lingered in the air. His arms were folded across his chest. He was staring at him pointedly, waiting for something. Marco couldn’t think. Not with how that plug just barely brushed his prostate. Long fingers gripped his chin, “Focus Marco, we are making dinner.”

“Bert,” Marco whispered shakily, “I-I can’t.”

“Tch, have a seat on the stool.”

Marco moaned and whimpered as he gingerly sat on the edge of the stool. He watched Bertholdt make quick work of the pasta he had attempted, pulling it through the press turning it into linguine. He shifted and gasped, bringing Bert’s attention to him. Storing the finished pasta and washing his hands again.

“Look at you. You are a complete mess.” The apron was covered in flour, he had a streak of the powder across his cheek. Bertholdt pushed open his legs to stand in between them. “What am I to do with you, Marco?” He ran his hands up Marco’s tan thighs. Gripping them, he pulled him to the edge of the stool, shifting the plug making him moan wantonly. Marco braced his hands on the back of the stool. “Good, you remembered.”

Bertholdt reached under the apron and stroked Marco’s straining ridged length. “Bert, p-please. I-I don’t care what you do, ju—st—please!” Marco begged.

The source of his desperation opened his mouth to speak when his phone rang. “Well, for your sake, I hope it’s not work.”

“Oh, God, please no.” He wasn’t entirely sure Bertholdt wouldn’t leave him sitting out on the precipice if there was an emergency with the restaurant. 

“Hey babe…nope, just making dinner with Marco.” Bertholdt turned up the speed on the vibrator sending a jolt of pleasure through his core. His mouth hung open as he dared not make a sound. His face pinched in pleasure. “Say hi, Marco.”

“Hi,” He squeaked.

“Sorry, he’s a little preoccupied right now…no worries, drive safe…don’t forget to pick Naba up at the groomers. See you soon.” Bertholdt ended the call and set his phone on the counter. “Jean and Reiner send their love.” Coming to stand in between his legs again, Bert crowded into his personal space. Marco leaned back as far as he dared without loosing his balance. “Does he get to see like this often?” Marco shook his head. “I didn’t think so.” A wicked grin crossed his lips as he wetted them. Marco’s chestnut gaze followed the movement. Bert’s eyes darted to the clock on the stove. “Let’s move this along, shall we?” Nodding eagerly, Bertholdt directed him to stand up. “Turn around.”

Bertholdt untied the apron lifting it over Marco’s head to drape it over the stool. He let his fingers run over the expanse of Marco’s back, admiring the light dusting of freckles that scattered over his sun kissed skin. He arched into the touch as expected. Pushing him forward so he was bent over the stool. Gripping his hips, he grinded his clothed erection against Marco’s backside.

The friction and pressure were enough to jostle the plug. Moaning loudly, Marco pushed back into him. Bertholdt grabbed the back of his neck holding him in place. “Don’t move.” He commanded lowly, lust bleeding through into his voice. His thumb rubbed at the side of Marco’s neck, giving away a hint of the lover he was used to. That was before he pressed firmly against the plug, the thumb of his other hand running over his stretched rim. “I’m really going to enjoy this.”

The shudder that rolled through Marco’s body didn’t go unnoticed. Bert turned off the vibration and slowly twisted the plug as he removed it, setting the toy in a container to be cleaned properly later. He took the time to appreciate the pretty picture that was Marco Bodt laid out over his island stool, his succulent round ass on display just for him. 

Marco look over his shoulder as the sound of zipper being pulled down. His lusty gaze devoured taunt muscles and caramel skin as Bertholdt methodically stepped out of his pants. There was a wild fire burning in his eyes as he scowled back at him. For one second, Marco thought maybe he had gotten in over his head. The soft caress of his inner thigh was enough to put his mind at ease. 

Their eyes locked as Bertholdt spread lube over his rigid length. Marco rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. A raised brow was all the warning he got before Bertholdt pressed into him. Giving a few seconds to adjust to his girth, a low moan passed Marco’s lips as his lover filled him further with a slow roll of his hips. Long fingers trailed up the outside of his thighs coaxing him into relaxing. Marco took a deep shuddering breath and blew it out, shoulders a touch less tense.

Bertholdt squared his stance. Gripping Marco’s hips he looked down to where they were joined, his thumbs running over the dimples on his lower back. His eyes snapped up to see Marco still watching him. Pursing his lips slightly, he narrowed his gaze. Decision resolute, he sucked his teeth as he ran his tongue over one of his canines. Marco’s russet eyes widened a fraction, as the last coherent thought he would have for the next thirty minutes formed in his mind. ‘Oh, fuck.’

Bertholdt pulled back and slammed into him, sliding the chair across the floor a couple of inches. Marco grasped at the counter, preventing is head from ramming into it. The man behind him showed no mercy, and it felt so fucking good. He took Marco’s breath away as he whimpered and gasped between thrusts, never fully catching his breath.

“Do you seen what you have done, Marco?” Bertholdt gritted out, driving his point home with each sharp buck of his hips. “You have made me break my own rule.”

“I—I—m s-s—orry.” Marco stammered.

The taller man grabbed a handful of chocolate locks, wrenching his head back and dragging the smaller man up against his chest. “What was that?” Bertholdt growled in his ear. Marco hissed and moaned, gripping the wrist that dug into his hip, thrusts never letting up. 

Marco’s eyes hooded as they rolled back. Bert hammering that bundle of nerves head on. “I’m sorry-y.” He wheezed.

The response was immediate. “No, you’re not.” 

Marco held onto the other hand in his hair. Holding on tight, not out of fear of pain, but afraid that Bert might stop. This is exactly what he wanted, craved. He wasn’t above pushing the taller man further. “No,” he gasped loudly, “I’m not.”

“Fucking brat.” Bertholdt twisted his wrists until he held both of Marco’s behind his freckled back, bending him forward. He fucked into that tight heat, never breaking his stride. “You and Jean have a really hard time listening to directions. Both of you like to touch and push buttons.”

Marco cried out at each jarring jolt of Bert’s hips. He hung his head, practically standing on his toes at this angle. If Bertholdt were to lose his grip, he would go crashing face first into the counter. Sensing the impending danger, Bertholdt took two steps back with Marco in tow. “Can’t fuck up that pretty face, now can we?”

“You, j-just d-don’t—fuck—want b-blood on your c-counters.” Murmured as he was pulled backwards.

“See, this shit, is what I’m talking about.” Pulling out, Bert spun Marco around, hoisting him up. Arms and legs automatically wrapped around him, as he plunged back into Marco’s pliant heat. “Buttons.”

“Fuuuuuck” He moaned as Bertholdt sank his teeth into his shoulder. Tangling one hand in Bert’s dark tresses, Marco felt his pace falter and relax minutely in his hold. Heated breath puffed against his ear. “What are you doing?” Nuzzling into his neck, a low growl left Bert’s throat. Nope. He was staying in character. He’ll be damned if he wasn’t going to finished what he started.

He removed Marco’s arms from around his neck, receiving a quizzical stare. Bracing one hand at his lower back, Bert brought one of Marco’s hands to the counter top. “Hold on.” Marco gripped the edge of the counter top with both hands as Bertholdt quickly adjusted his hold on his legs, draping them over his arms. 

“Oohhh, shhhiiiiiitt” The breath was literally being fucked out of him. His arms ached from his white knuckled grip, threatening to buckle under his own weight. His angelic face contorted in pleasure, thoroughly wrecked. He wanted, no needed to come again. His cock strained full and heavy, leaking against his stomach. The ring around the base preventing that sweet release he chased.

“Not until I tell you to.” Bertholdt read is expression as those intense olive eyes glared at him. 

“Please.” Marco begged.

“No, this is your punishment.” The unrelenting snap of Bertholdt’s hips echoed off the kitchen walls. “This is what you asked for, what you begged for, for years.” Venom laced through his words. “Are you telling me you don’t want it?” Before it was an act, but he was genuinely starting to get pissed.

“No! No, Bert—" Marco’s disjointed babble fell from his lips. “-Don’t stop, Bert, please—" There was a fire burning in his belly. The heat was fantastic, threatening to take him over. “—I—I—”

“You can take it.” Marco almost sobbed, the broken sound that left his throat was heart wrenching. “That’s not going to work this time.” Bertholdt’s eyes darted away momentarily. He was being pushed to his own limits. And just like that everything clicked. All of this, the so called “guilt” over the years, was to get Bertholdt to fuck him up well outside of his comfort zone. This was exactly what Marco wanted all along. He didn’t feel one bit sorry over the incident in the laundry room.

Bertholdt came to an abrupt halt. His disbelieving heated glare burned holes into Marco’s innocent gaze. “You son of a bitch.”

Marco’s expression turned dark immediately glaring back with intensity. “Don’t you bring my mother into this.”

“I can’t believe you!” Fuck his schedule, dinner be damned. Bertholdt wrapped his hand around Marco’s neck. The latter bringing his hands up to grip his wrist. The slightest pressure had Marco’s eyes rolling back, moaning sinfully. Arm around his waist, he turned swiftly, sweeping away the contents that littered the island slamming Marco down on it, hand still gripped around his throat. 

Marco groaned again as his back hit the counter top. His legs remained firmly wrapped around Bertholdt’s waist. Green eyes flared as they burned into him. “I should leave you just like this.”

“But you won’t.” Marco croaked out. Even in the submissive role, he still called all the shots. Bertholdt’s hand tightened around his neck causing Marco to arch up off the counter.

“Selfish prick.” If that’s how he wanted to play, then fine. Starting his merciless pace again, he thrust hard enough to leave Marco bruised. Cutting off his air supply, Marco tried to gasp, legs tightening around Bert’s waist. 

Bert eased up on the pressure as he continued fucking him into oblivion. Sweat slicked skin begged to be touched, but all Marco could do was hold onto the hand around his throat. Bertholdt reached down with the other hand and stroked Marco’s swollen cock, rubbing his thumb over the head and through the slit. Removing the cock ring he stroked his length in its entirety while adding pressure to his windpipe again. Marco keened and arched his back. He was so close.

“Not yet.”

“Fuck Bert!” He panted. Bertholdt hiked Marco’s leg over his shoulder, yanking him to the edge of the island. Bending over him, Marco’s eyes rolled back at the new angle, the steady pounding and lack of oxygen. 

“You know I don’t like breath play.” He bit his thigh hard enough to leave marks. Glazed eyes stared widely up at him. “I don’t like being rough with you.” He sped up his pace. Marco’s grip around his wrist slackened. 

Leaning back, he moved his hands to Marco’s hips. “Now.”

Marco gasped for air as he arched up off the counter surface. A long, broken moan followed, coming hard and untouched for the third time. Bertholdt fucked him through his orgasm, chasing his own release. He came with a soft huff of Marco’s name.

Both men struggled to catch their breath. Marco lay boneless, one leg still draped over Bert’s shoulder. Kind caramel fingers dragged patterns through the come spilled over his stomach. Slowly, Bert pulls out, Marco hissed at the rawness and the ache in his hips.

“I’m not sorry.” Bertholdt mumbled as he gently lowered Marco’s leg.

Marco looked him over. Bert was just as spent as he was, sweat running rivers over his skin, trailing down still taunt muscles. He still looked aggravated, however, a hint of concern was present in his eyes. “Me either.” He rasped, mustering the energy to hold his arms open, knowing Bert would cave.

Leaning down he allowed Marco to wrap his arms around him. Lifting him up, Bert held him close as he picked up his phone and staggered out of the kitchen towards the bedrooms. Burying his head in the crook of Bert’s neck, Marco’s voice came out small, “Don’t be mad at me.”

Sighing deeply, he held Marco a little closer. “Shush.” Turning on the light in the bathroom, he set his lover down on the closed toilet lid while he started a bath for him in his and Reiner’s oversized tub. Adding some bath salts and rosemary mint oil, he carried Marco over to the tub and gently set him down in the steaming water. Russet eyes followed him as he turned the water off and retrieved two fluffy bath towels from the linen closet. Bertholdt typed out a quick message on his phone, then turned it off.

Walking over to the recently remodeled shower stall, he turned on the water. Those eyes never wandered away from him. Coming over to the tub he ran his hand through sweaty dark chocolate hair. “Relax.” His voice was soft, the slight curl to his lips helped ease a bit of Marco’s anxiety that maybe he had pushed too far and ruined everything for all of them. 

Bertholdt padded over to the shower and washed the sweat from his body, making quick work of his hair. Returning moments later to tend to Marco, the smell of cardamon clinging to his skin. With the towel wrapped around his waist, he knelt down and gently began washing Marco’s legs, making sure to rub the tension out of them before moving on.

“Are you mad with me?” Chestnut eyes implored.

Skillfully tender fingers moved the grey bath cloth over his midriff and up his chest. “I am not happy with you, but I am not mad either.” Washing down his arms, he cupped the back of Marco’s neck, tilting his head back to pour water over his hair.

Closing his eyes as Bertholdt massaged shampoo through his hair, his voice cracking, “Did I fuck it up?”

There was a kiss to the tip of his button nose. “No, you little deviant, you didn’t fuck it up.” Marco swallowed hard with relief. Good.

Rinsing the shampoo from his hair, Bertholdt allowed him a minute to relax. Turning down the sheets and lowering the lights, he prepared the room before pulling on a pair of sleeper pants and return to Marco’s side. Resting his arm on the side of the basin he let his fingers play in the water. Leaning his head to the side, he met Marco’s tired gaze. “How do you feel?”

Full lips pulled back into a sleepy smile, “Sore.”

“Good.” Bertholdt chuckled and flicked water at his face. “Then I did my job.”

“Yeah, maybe a little too well.”

“You had that coming.”

“I did ask for it.”

“That you did, and orchestrated it, I might add.” He noted the water was starting to lose its warmth. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

Bertholdt insisted on drying Marco and carrying him to bed, where he pulled out a spare pair of sleeper pants that were entirely too long. Easing under the covers, Bertholdt pulled the smaller man close, wrapping his arms lovingly around him. Setting his chin on top of damp hair, “What brought you home early?”

“Meeting was going nowhere. Figured it would be better to get a fresh start in the morning. I’m taking the team to breakfast.” Marco snuggled into the furnace wrapped around him.

“Why don’t you have them meet you at the restaurant and I’ll make breakfast for you. I have to head in early anyway.”

Marco pulled back to look up at Bert as lethargic green eyes gazed down at him. “Seriously?”

Bert tucked his head back under his chin, “Yep, now hush. We are having a moment.”  
~*~*~

Jean stood in the doorway and whistled at the catastrophe that was Bertholdt’s pristine kitchen. “Damn, good thing we didn’t invite Connie and Sasha over after all.”

“Well, looks like I’m bunking with you tonight.” Reiner said as he squeezed past the shorter man. “Bertl said not to mind the mess and that dinner was warming in the oven. You hungry?” 

Pushing off the door frame, he followed Reiner in. “I could eat.” Looking around at the mess on the floor, he smirked as he recognized a few of his favorite toys. Chuckling, “Looks like they got creative.”

Reiner made them a plate while Jean poured the drinks and gathered the flatware. Grinning wide, “Hopefully this puts an end to the ‘laundry room incident’ guilt.”

“Hopefully.” Jean lead the way out of the kitchen, Reiner right behind him. There was no way in hell they would be eating at the island anytime soon. “And this is why we don’t fuck in the kitchen.”

Sitting at the dining room table, Reiner praised Bertholdt on his foresight to make dinner early. Jean hummed in agreement. “So,” He chewed around a mouthful of food. “What do you say after we finish here, you let me tear that sweet ass up for dessert?”

Jean set his glass down and smirking deviously, “You’re on.”


End file.
